raised in the city brizzy, its the silly kid ro$$y kickin ya speakers,
portrayed as a wannabe bias b, but ima gonna be, gota be one of the greatest,
so for all u weepers and haters, im not yet, but set to be one of australias,
finest mc's, cuz since the crusader, not many can flow like me, so scribe, laters,
like the equator, lets draw a line down the middle, im no eminem, so call me skittle,
i gotta riddle, wat burns more, bullet thru the thigh or a guy with an STI tryna piddle,
shiit, im tryna be civil, but be a bitch and ima whittle ya body and bones til they brittle,
so shut up and twiddle ya thumbs and listen, don't belittle me, shit, not even a little,
it'll be the end like b.e.p, cuz the only flow ya got is when ya spend a penny,
with my pad and my pen, ima be real big and fresh like mannie, pockets fatter then jenny,
u cant defend, im dat fuckin bastard dat killed kenny, and pleaded insanity,
dont be mad at me, couple of years u'll be able to see, my cd up in sanity,
not many, if any, motherfuckers would believe, dat ro$$y's gonna succeed,
im just laughin, witha 25 stick of weed, bottle of bundy, and foil of speed,
im fuckin keen, hour later laying like a figurine, tryna breathe, a weekly routine,
off in another world, so when they say im goin nowhere, fucked if i know wat they mean.
a song im workin on, let us no wat ya think.